We’ve all heard that age-old expression about dogs being “man’s best friend.” I grew up with dogs around the house and always enjoyed them.  At the same time, I knew there must be more to the relationship than what I had experienced to warrant the title of “best” friend. I finally understand now how that accolade was earned by canines all over the world.  What changed for me was when man’s best friend became my best friend.

This journey started almost 12 years ago.  I was over at a farmer friend’s house fishing for Bluegill in his pond.  While I was there, his bird dog came out and hung around while I fished. He wasn’t overly animated about me being there, he just acted glad to have company and was content to just be there with me.  He waded out into about 8 inches of water and stood stock still and watched the fish swim around his feet.  He didn’t move.  He didn’t lunge. He watched with an intoxicating curiosity. So much so, I found myself watching him as intently as he was watching the fish.  Such energy focused so completely. I had to know more about this breed. I had found the kind of dog I had been looking for.

Well, I found out the breed I had fallen in love with was the German Shorthaired Pointer, or GSP.  A bird dog of immense versatility, stamina, and beauty. I told my wife and family what I had experienced at the pond and they were enthused about the prospect of a new puppy.  We did our research and decided in early 2005 that we would get a pup around the time we moved into our new home in the fall.  But, as fate would have it, in late May I was walking out of a little ice cream shop in Middlebury, Indiana. I stopped dead in my tracks when I got to the door.  There, on the bulletin board beside the door, was a flyer for a recently whelped litter of Shorthairs.  They would be ready in early June.

So, I checked with the landlord of our rental house and got the all-clear from him.  There was nothing holding me back from buying my pup a little bit early.  On a Sunday afternoon in mid-June, my wife and I and the three boys loaded up in the Durango and headed to Middlebury.  We got to the breeder’s and met all the puppies.  There was a male, all liver in color, that we really liked.  We played with them for a while and honed in on a little female with a liver head and ticked body.  She was gorgeous.  We decided she was the one and purchased the only dog we have ever… well… purchased.  She was worth every penny.

We put her in a kennel in the back of the SUV and headed home. Well, we tried.  That pup would not shut up.  You would have thought somebody was beating her.  After a few miles, we gave up.  We decided to try letting my wife hold her in her lap and see if she would settle down.  She was perfectly content. The queen had established who was in charge.

We took her home and she was my BabyDoll.  From day one. Very masculine name, right? Oh well, it’s who she was.  Our boys were aged 9, 7, and 5 at the time and she became part of their childhood.  I don’t think the boys had a t-shirt without holes in it from her grabbing them for the next two years.  She became a part of the family, partaking in every hiking and camping trip we took. Even Frisbee took on a new element.  The Frisbees all had holes in them too.

In her early years, I worked in construction building houses.  She loved to go to the job site.  She would spend every day going over the entire site looking for mice and whatever other mischief she could find.  The guys would throw dirt clods for her.  She loved to chase dirt clods.  Her favorite place to go was the lumber yard, because all the guys knew her and loved her.  They made over her and fed her snack crackers or some such treat from their lunch.

We did a lot of bird hunting.  We live in Indiana where there are not a lot of wild gamebirds, so we did a lot of Put-and-Take hunting which we thoroughly enjoyed.  I always said we would go hunt pheasant in South Dakota someday.

We played in the hose a lot. BabyDoll had a very strange fixation with the water hose.  She’d chase the water and snap at it.  Evidently, she swallowed a lot too. She would swell up like a watermelon and have to stay outside for several hours till nature took its course.

We bred her in late 2008 and she gave birth to seven healthy puppies in January of 2009.  Six females and one male.  We kept SweetPea, whom you’ve already met. (I’d like to tell you my wife named them, but I have to take full responsibility.)  It was a fun experience for our whole family.

In 2010 my line of work moved from construction to transportation and she was rarely able to go with me. At home she could roam freely around our property all day long, but she still preferred to go with me despite getting to do nothing but sit in the truck all day.  This was often made abundantly clear to me by her laying in front of my truck in protest and refusing to move.  That, or she would wait expectantly by the front door in hopes I would utter those four words she longed to hear—“Get in the truck.”  No matter how many mornings I abandoned her, she was always eager to greet me when I got back in the evening.

Friday July 3, 2015 I came home from work and my family met me at the door.  BabyDoll stepped out the door and began what I thought was stretching.  After a few seconds, I realized she had lost control of her hind legs and her front legs were rigid.  It was late enough in the evening that our local vet was closed, so we had to take her to an emergency clinic an hour away.  They diagnosed her condition as Schiff-Scherrington which causes paralysis due to a spinal cord lesion. Treatment would be thousands of dollars with no guarantee of success.  The only thing I could think to tell BabyDoll was “I’m sorry we never made it to South Dakota.”

We knew what we needed to do, but the boys had not said their goodbyes.  We let the vet try a steroid shot and took her home for one more night while hoping for a miracle.  It never came.  So after a breakfast of graham crackers and peanut butter, we made the long trek back to the emergency clinic on Saturday to have her put to sleep.  She was so good. I held her while she greeted everyone that came in to prep her.  And then he came in.  She growled at him.  No one else. She knew.  I held and told her I was sorry.  Then she was gone.

Monday will be the one-year anniversary of her passing and I still miss her.  Looking back, I feel I am blessed.  Blessed to say I was found worthy of BabyDoll’s unconditional love and loyalty.  Blessed to say that that the most painful thing I’ve endured in my life is the death of my dog. Blessed to understand the full meaning of “man’s best friend.”  Hug your best friend and share a snack with them today in memory of BabyDoll!

I need to go blow my nose now.

Mike